


A Lassierella Story

by moondragon23



Category: Psych
Genre: F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Like a fairy tale, Romance, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3354281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondragon23/pseuds/moondragon23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts like a fairy tale. Guy and girl meet at a party. Girl runs off before the guy learns her name, leaving only a piece of her outfit behind. Guy looks for girl.<br/>Of course, the prince never had to worry about escaped convicts and hostage situations while trying to get his girl. Lassiter will have to work a little bit harder for his happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mysterious Woman at the Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Psych or any of its characters. All other publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day everyone!
> 
> This is a re-edited version of a story I wrote for PineappleHead for the Psychfic Secret Santa Exchange. It is completely finished and ready to be posted and I'll be updating it once a week. Lassiter is my favorite character and it was fun to write a love story focused on him. I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> This takes place right after Last Night Gus before Lassiter meets Marlowe.

Carlton Lassiter scowled as he looked around the room. He hated Halloween. It was just an excuse for teenagers to vandalize public property, for children to run around on sugar highs being a nuisance to everyone, and for adults to dress up in a pathetic attempt to recapture their youth.

Unfortunately, his opinion was not shared by the rest of the department. Hence, the crowded Halloween party he was currently attending. He hadn't wanted to come but the whole thing had been organized by O'Hara and Spencer and the two of them had guilted him into it. That, and the Chief had threatened to volunteer him for the supervised trick or treating program, where police officers escorted children around designated neighborhoods. He shuddered at the thought. At least here he could drink.

He made his way carefully through the crowd, passing a werewolf that looked like it had mange and a witch whose wart covered face looked a little too real. He shook his head in disgust. If his fellow officers spent half as much time solving cases as they did on their costumes, there wouldn’t be any crime left in Santa Barbara.

Dobson was manning the mini bar set up at one end of the refreshment table. “Hello Lassiter. Great party, isn't it?”

“Yeah, it's something,” Lassiter said sarcastically. He waved at Dobson's costume. “Batman? You had to pick a vigilante who makes the police look like incompetent fools?”

“I like Batman,” Dobson said defensively. “He was a man trying to help the people of his city and the police were the ones contacting him for help.” He grinned. “Sort of like when we call in Spencer for help.”

Lassiter bristled. “That is **not** the same. We could have solved any of those cases without Spencer's interference.” He sneered at Dobson's costume. “And Spencer never had to dress up in a ridiculous get up to solve crimes.”

Dobson crossed his arms. “He's dressed in plenty of strange outfits while working cases.”

Lassiter threw up his hands. “Whatever! Just make me a Jack and Coke.”

“Where’s your mask?” Dobson asked, tugging on his own. “Everyone is supposed to wear one.” He gave Lassiter a look, apparently deciding to be difficult after having his costume insulted.

“I lost it,” Lassiter lied. It was bad enough he had been forced into a costume, even if he got to keep his gun. The mask just made him look ridiculous.

“I’m sensing your mask is close by,” a familiar annoying voice said.

Lassiter sighed, turning to find Shawn Spencer standing next to him. He was about to make a snarky comment about fake psychics when he noticed what was strapped to the man’s side. “Please tell me someone wasn't stupid enough to give you a real sword.”

“I _wish_ ,” Spencer said wistfully. He pulled it out and Lassiter saw it was made of cheap plastic. “Jules said it was too dangerous to let me have a real sword but this one totally ruins my costume.” He was wearing dark clothes, a black cape, a black hat, and a black piece of cloth around the top of his head with cut outs so he could see.

Lassiter frowned. “What exactly are you supposed to be?”

Spencer huffed in exasperation. “I’m Zorro, man. Don’t you see the resemblance to Antonio Banderas?” He said the last part in a fake Spanish accent and struck what Lassiter guessed was supposed to be a manly pose.

“No.” Lassiter grinned as Spencer visibly deflated. He glanced around but didn't see any sign of the man usually glued to Spencer's side. “Where's Guster?”

Glancing around himself, Spencer pointed towards the entrance way. “Over there, striking out with Officer Mendez.”

Guster was wearing a tight green costume with yellow strips and a pair of sticks strapped to his back. Mendez had a hand over her mouth, trying to hide her laughter.

“What the hell is he supposed to be?”

“Kick-Ass.” Spencer sighed. “Jules wouldn't let him have any real weapons either.”

Lassiter didn't know what a 'Kick-Ass' was but it looked like another vigilante superhero. Was that all people thought about these days? “She's smart. You two could do enough damage with the plastic ones you have.”

“That is completely untrue,” Spencer said, swinging his sword and almost decapitating a mummy. The mummy gave him a dirty look and Spencer put his sword away. “It's only plastic. The worse you would have gotten was a bruise,” he called after him/her.

Lassiter smirked. “Exactly my point.”

Spencer pouted. “It's not fair. Jules dressed as Hit Girl and her weapons are all real.” He sighed at Lassiter's blank look. “Don't you ever go to the movies?”

“Sometimes.” The last movie he remembered going to was at least a year ago. He didn’t see a point in wasting the money when he could rent it on DVD for a fraction of the price and not be interrupted by arresting the teenagers making out in the back row for public indecency (Vick had actually accused him of going purposefully to make arrests. It wasn't his fault today's youth were all oversexed exhibitionists who couldn't let a man enjoy a movie in peace). “I just don't waste my time on delusional stories about ordinary people who think they can take on a crime lord because they're wearing a mask.”

Spencer tsked. “You need to loosen up and have more fun.” He frowned. “Or any fun, come to think of it.”

“I have plenty of fun,” Lassiter sputtered indignantly. “Just last weekend I went to a seminar about using everyday objects as defensive weapons if a fight occurs while subduing a suspect.”

“I don't think that counts,” Dobson said. “It was department mandated.”

“I stayed late and learned how to disarm someone with a toaster,” Lassiter protested.

Spencer shook his head. “I can't do this with you anymore. It's too sad.” He stepped around Lassiter and grinned at Dobson. “Dobson, my man. I have to say, love the costume. Do you have any cool gadgets in your utility belt?”

Dobson smiled smugly. “Do I ever. Check this out.” He pulled something out of one of his pockets and started explaining how it worked to Spencer.

Lassiter interrupted them before they could get too involved. “Look, before you both go all geek boy on me, how about my drink?”

Dobson tapped his mask. “You know the deal.”

“Yeah, Lassie. This is not a mask-optional party.” Spencer shuddered dramatically. “That would just be obscene.”

Lassiter growled as he pulled the mask out of his pocket (and how the hell had Spencer known he had hidden it there? He had checked and knew it wasn't visible) and put it on. “There. Happy?”

Spencer grinned. “Yes.” Before Lassiter could react, he pulled out his cell phone and snapped a picture.

“Spencer!” He lunged for the younger man but Spencer slipped from his grasp and wove his way rapidly through the crowd. “Dammit,” he cursed softly.

“He’s been taking pictures of everyone here. I wouldn’t worry about it,” Dobson said, not at all helpfully. He made Lassiter's drink and handed it over. “Here you go.”

“Finally,” Lassiter snapped, giving Dobson a dirty look that unfortunately didn't translate through the mask. He would remember this the next time he needed someone to search through a dumpster for evidence. He left the table quickly, pushing past other eager party goers looking for a liquid excuse to lower their inhibitions.

The room seemed more crowded now than it was before with people laughing and carrying on. It was making him feel slightly claustrophobic and he looked for a less crowded area of the room to retreat to. He finally found an open area near the back by the stairs that was blessedly free of his coworkers.

He sipped his drink as he surveyed the crowd. Everyone was getting more boisterous as the night wore on and people became intoxicated, despite Dobson's attempts to limit their alcohol. He never had liked these kind of parties, even in college, and figured it was time to leave. He would go find Vick to make sure she knew he had put in an appearance and then go home to his nice quiet house.

Lassiter turned around to do just that and bumped right into someone, spilling his drink all over them. “Damn it!” He hastily put his drink down, and took stock of the damage. He had managed to escape with a few splashes; however the woman’s outfit was completely soaked through.

He winced. “I’m sorry. Let me find something to clean that up.” He didn't see anything he could use nearby so he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. The drink had spilled mostly over her chest and he awkwardly patted at the material.

“I got it,” the woman said shortly, grabbing the handkerchief out of his hand. She tried to soak up some of the liquid but it was obvious the dark drink had already stained the light colored dress. She sighed, looking down at her ruined costume. “Great.” Her dark eyes flashed angrily as she glared at him. “I hope you know you’re paying for this.”

“You're the one who was in my way,” Lassiter protested. The costume looked very well-made and he doubted he could afford to replace it. Not that he was at fault; clearly the woman should have been paying more attention.

She waved at the empty space around them. “There was plenty of room for you to walk by without bumping into me.”

“So why were you directly where I was trying to walk?” Lassiter countered.

The woman glared at him another moment, then blinked. “Your eyes are very blue.”

The detective's next snipe was halted in its tracks and he stuttered, “Um, thank you?” The last person to comment on his eyes had been Spencer, so he wasn't quite sure how to respond to this unexpected compliment, especially considering they had just been arguing. O'Hara's voice sounded in his head, telling him to compliment her back. “Your hair looks, um, clean.” It was thick and curly, falling to just past her shoulders in shiny brown locks.

This made the woman smile. “Wow, you really don't know how to talk to women.”

Lassiter drew himself up indignantly. “I _was_ married.”

“But not now?” the woman asked with interest.

It occurred to Lassiter that the woman, who had previously been furious with him, was now flirting. It was definitely a situation he hadn't been in often and he was unsure how to handle it. He looked away, then back over at her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So, uh, what is your costume supposed to be?”

The woman turned slightly, revealing wings on her back that matched her mask. “A fairy, though the dress is part of my costume from the Renaissance Faire.” She brushed at the damp fabric sadly. “I guess I'll have to replace it. I do demonstrations with medieval weaponry and a dress wasn't the most practical thing to wear but I did like it.” She gave Lassiter a half-hearted glare.

He tried not to let the guilt show on his face. It's not like he had ruined her outfit intentionally. “What kind of weapons?” he asked in an attempt to change the subject. While his interest lay more with firearms, he did have a fascination with other forms of weaponry.

“Swords, maces, crossbows. . . basically anything that could be used by a single individual in combat during that time period,” she said.

“Knives?”

She nodded. “Of several different lengths and styles. It’s one of the few weapons of the time still used today.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he said sincerely.

“There’s always next year.” She waved a hand at him. “What about your costume?”

Lassiter made a face. “It wasn't my idea. I was supposed to be a sheriff, but then Spencer decided we should all wear masks so now I look more like a bandit.”

The woman tilted her head. “I don't know. I'm thinking more like the Lone Ranger. You know, fighting for justice and protecting the people of the west while keeping his identity a secret.”

Lassiter frowned. “Sounds like another vigilante.”

“That was the only type of law there was in the Old West.” She shrugged when Lassiter looked less than impressed. “It's better than a bandit.”

“I suppose,” he said reluctantly. He wasn't sure he liked being compared to any kind of unlawful figure.

The woman sighed. “If it makes you feel better, think of him as being undercover.”

Lassiter did enjoy undercover work and it was an essential part of many police investigations. “Yeah, I could live with that,” he said, causing the woman to smile. “What's your name?”

She blinked. “You can call me Titania.”

Lassiter narrowed his eyes, recognizing the name from that Shakespeare play with the fairies. People only used false names if they had something to hide, usually something of a criminal nature. “I don't remember seeing you around the station before. What department do you work in?”

“Um. . .” She looked away and started to pluck at the ends of her sleeves. “Is that really important right now?”

“It is if you don't have permission to be here.” From the way she tensed, Lassiter guessed he was right. “Who are you?”

“Carlton!” His partner, Juliet O'Hara, came rushing over to him. She was dressed in a tight black and purple costume with an ugly purple plaid skirt, a purple wig, and, of course, the required mask. “Have you seen Shawn?”

“Not since he almost decapitated someone with his plastic sword,” Lassiter said, annoyed at the interruption. “Why?”

“He's supposed to be helping me judge the costume contest,” she said, glancing around as if Spencer would magical pop up out of thin air (an act the fake psychic seemed to perform often, usually at a crime scene or somewhere else he was unwelcome). “Gus doesn't know where he went and he wasn't by the food.”

“Well, he's not here.” Lassiter turned away to question the fairy again only to realize she was gone. “O'Hara, did you see where she went?”

“Who?”

“The woman I was just talking with.” Lassiter looked around but could see no sign of her.

“What did she look like?” O'Hara asked.

“She was dressed as a fairy in this medieval costume,” he said, scanning the crowd. “I spilled a drink on her.”

O'Hara shook her head sadly. “We really need to work on your people skills.”

Lassiter ignored her. He had caught a glimpse of green matching the dress the woman was wearing. He headed in that direction only to be forced to stop short when a drunk pirate and his wench stumbled into his path, their bright blue masks clashing horribly with their outfits. “Move out of the way!” he snapped, trying to get past them.

“Relax, it's a party,” the pirate said exuberantly, waving a half empty bottle of rum.

His companion grabbed the bottle. “I think you've had enough now.” Tugging on the pirate's arm, she led him out of the detective's way.

Looking around, Lassiter didn't see any sign of the woman. He headed to where he had last seen her, but found nothing except a scrap of torn fabric on the corner of a desk.

O'Hara caught up to him. “Any sign of her?”

Lassiter shook his head. “Just part of her costume.” He held up the bit of soft green fabric.

O'Hara's eyes softened. “Maybe she had an emergency.”

Lassiter snorted. “Yeah, sure. Just like every other woman I've dated recently.”

“Come here.” Not giving him a choice, O'Hara wrapped him up in a hug. “Cheer up. I'm sure you'll find someone great real soon.”

Lassiter eyed his partner carefully. “Just how much have you had to drink tonight?” He winced when she whacked him on the arm. “Ow, watch it!”

“Just shut up and let me comfort you,” she said, tightening her hold.

“I don't need comfort,” Lassiter muttered. Privately though, he had to admit the hug helped, even if her wig tickled his nose. At least he had one person who he could count on to be there for him.

After a few moments, O'Hara released him. “Now, go get yourself another drink and relax. It's a party. I'm sure there are plenty of other people here you can meet.”

“Maybe,” Lassiter said doubtful. O'Hara gave him a look and he rolled his eyes. “I'll try, all right?”

O'Hara nodded. “I'm going to go find Shawn now, but I'll be checking on you later.”

He fought the urge answer with a sarcastic 'Yes mother' and simply nodded his head. As O'Hara left, he fingered the soft scrap of fabric. He hadn't even gotten the woman's name. There was no way to track her down.

Sighing, he stuffed the scrap into his pocket. Another drink sounded like a good idea.


	2. Hidden in Plain Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a really crappy week and had to rush my cat to the vet this morning for emergency surgery. Hopefully, you all had a better week than me. If not, maybe this chapter will help cheer you up. It sure helped me.

Liz Holden yawned as she tugged on the front doors of Hometown Beanery, not too surprised to find them unlocked. She would need to have another talk with Mandy about that. She made sure to lock the doors behind her once she got inside so impatient customers couldn’t get in until they were ready to open.

She could smell coffee already brewing as she headed towards the break room and detoured to grab a cup. One of the perks of working at a coffee shop was a fresh brewed cup in the morning after a late night. She took a moment to enjoy her first sip before heading into the back to get ready.

Mandy Sinclair was already in the break room, putting her apron on. “You left the door unlocked again,” Liz said.

“I’ll remember next time,” Mandy said blithely. Liz let it go for now, too tired to deal with it this early in the morning. “What happened after we got separated last night?”

Liz made a face. “Someone spilled a drink all over my costume.” She tied back her hair, hissing as she broke another hair tie and it snapped against her fingers. Luckily, she always carried extras and grabbed a fresh one from her bag.

Mandy gave a low whistle. “I hope you gave them hell.”

Liz shook her head. “He was actually really nice about it. Besides, I bumped into him so it wasn’t his fault.” She retied her hair and grabbed her own apron out of her locker.

Mandy raised an eyebrow. “He must be some guy if you let him off the hook. I know how expensive that outfit was.”

“I told you it wasn’t his fault.” She sipped her coffee, humming happily as the caffeinated drink warmed and invigorated her.

Mandy smirked. “That hasn’t stopped you before.”

Liz sighed. Unfortunately, her friend was correct. She did have a bit of a temper when things went wrong. “Well, this time I kept my cool.”

Mandy followed her out of the break room as she went to get the fresh baked goods from the back. “So what’s he like?”

“Who?” Liz asked, grabbing a tray.

Mandy sighed dramatically. “The guy you let get away with ruining a $200 outfit.”

“He’s a cop.”

Mandy rolled her eyes. “I could have figured that out. It was a _police_ department party.”

Liz gave her a shove. “Are you going to help get ready or not?”

“Fine.” Mandy started more coffee brewing while Liz filled the display case with muffins, cookies and assorted pastries. “Come on, I’m dying over here,” Mandy said after several minutes of silence.

Liz hid a smile. Her friend loved to gossip and had to know everything about everyone. The silence must be killing her. “Well, he was tall and had these brilliant blue eyes. I told him about my weapons display at the Renaissance Fair and he actually seemed genuinely interested in it.”

Mandy shook her head. “Another weapons freak. I bet you he has an armory stashed at his house.”

“We’ll see who’s complaining when the apocalypse hits,” Liz said, thinking of her own stash of weapons. No firearms, but plenty of swords, axes, and knives that she wouldn’t have to worry about running out of ammunition for. Not to mention the bows and crossbows that would be equally good for hunting as for protection.

Mandy frowned. “So if you guys hit it off so well, why aren’t you happier this morning?”

Liz sighed. “He asked me for my name.”

Mandy gave her a look. “Aaaaand?” she asked, drawing out the word expectantly when Liz didn't elaborate.

Liz snorted. “What was I supposed to tell him? ‘Hi, I’m Liz. I don’t work for the department, I’m just crashing the party because of a dare I made while I was drunk.’”

“I would leave out the part about the dare but the rest sounded okay.” Mandy paused thoughtfully. “You could have added that you teach at the college; guys like girls that are smart.”

Liz shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I left while he was distracted by someone else and never got his name. It’s best just to forget about it.”

“If you say so. . .” Mandy said skeptically.

Liz set out the last of the baked goods and put the empty trays in the back. “Come on, it’s time to open.” Already a group was forming outside the door, all waiting for their first dose of caffeine to start the day.

The morning was busy, which helped Liz keep her resolve not to dwell on last night. Not that it was always easy. Bright blue eyes, a man’s tall height, even the faint scent of leather, all brought up memories of her mysterious cowboy (not to mention the man who came in wearing a genuine ten gallon hat. Ted had always been a little weird). As the day went on though, she found it easier and easier to forget.

Especially when one of the more annoying customers came in.

“Oh Liz,” Mandy called out from the front as Liz dug through the storage room for more paper cups. “Your favorite customer is here.”

Liz peeked out at the counter and groaned. “Can’t you take him?”

“I’m busy working on six mocha lattes.” Mandy took the cups from her and grinned evilly. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to deprive you of his charming personality.”

“Fine.” Liz took a moment to tamp down her frustration and put a smile on her face before approaching the counter. “What can I get for you?”

The tall detective looked down at her, scowling as usual. “I need a medium vanilla cinnamon latte and a regular coffee, heavy on the cream and four spoons of sugar.”

“Coming right up.” As she made the coffee, she tried to make some small talk. “Where is your partner today?” She liked Juliet; the younger detective was always perky and smiling and had given Liz some great advice on a new conditioner to try for her unruly hair.

“Busy.”

“Got a big case?”

Lassiter’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t discuss police matters with civilians.”

Liz wondered if his face had gotten permanently stuck like that. She had never seen him smile and he always seemed to be in a rotten mood. “Do you want to try a muffin or cookie today?”

“Just the coffee.”

Giving up on her attempt to play nice, Liz concentrated on getting his order together. When she placed the two coffees on the counter, he took a sip of his to make sure she made it right, just like he always did. “It’s adequate,” he proclaimed.

“Well, I’m so glad you like it,” Liz said in an extra perky voice. “That will be $6.87.”

Lassiter eyed her suspiciously as she made his change and counted it twice before shoving it in his pocket. Without a thanks, or even acknowledging her presence, he grabbed his coffees and left.

Liz took a deep breath, determined not to let the detective ruin her good mood. She had seen him act that way towards everyone besides his partner; she shouldn’t take it personally. Forcing her irritation aside, she went to help Mandy with the lattes.

Once the morning rush slowed, she found herself once again thinking about her mystery man. Not wanting to dwell on a lost cause, she chose instead to vent a little about her most annoying customer of the day so far. “I don’t understand how a man that drinks coffee that sweet can be so bitter,” Liz said.

“Lassiter?” Mandy guessed. “Maybe he would be less uptight if he got laid more often.”

Liz smacked her on the arm. “Jeesh, Mandy. Is sex all you think about?”

Mandy got a dreamy look on her face. “Trust me, if you had a boyfriend as hot as mine, your mind would spend a lot of time in the gutter too.”

Liz doubted that but knew arguing wouldn’t change Mandy’s mind. “How do you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend?” she asked instead.

Mandy snorted. “As if. I can’t imagine a woman crazy enough to put up with him.”

“His partner seems to like him well enough,” Liz pointed out.

“Well, he’s definitely not sleeping with this one. Right, that was before you started here,” Mandy said at Liz’s blank look. “It was a few years ago and he was almost tolerable when he was sleeping with his old partner. Then Shawn started working at the station and outed their relationship. She transferred away, Juliet transferred in, and old Lassiter has been grumpy ever since.”

Liz looked at her in amazement. “How do you find out all this stuff?”

“Jeff isn’t the first cop I’ve dated and some of them get really chatty over a good cup of coffee.” Mandy grinned. “I told you this job had its perks.” She nudged Liz’s arm. “Speaking of perks. . .”

Liz made a face. “I don’t want to hear about your bedroom exploits.”

Mandy stuck her tongue out. “Shut up and listen. There are other perks to having a cop as a boyfriend. Like the ability to find out who your mystery man is.”

“And admit to someone with the power to arrest me that I was trespassing at the station last night?” Liz shook her head. “No thanks.”

“There were plenty of people there who weren’t cops,” Mandy reminded her.

“But they came in through the front door,” Liz countered. “Not through a back entrance in a clearly out of bounds area.”

“If you came in the front door, you wouldn’t have been sneaking into the party,” Mandy said. “Which would have defeated the purpose of the dare.”

Liz sighed. “I should have known better than to do tequila shots with you.”

“No, you should have known better than to bet against my sex appeal,” Mandy said with a provocative swish of her hips.

“I still say you cheated,” Liz muttered. “You knew the guy from college.”

“You didn’t specify it had to be a stranger,” Mandy replied. “The bet was I could get any guy in the bar to loan me $50 and you were the one that chose him.”

“I should tell your boyfriend,” Liz said.

Mandy hugged her. “You won’t because you love me.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “Yeah, keep thinking that.”

Mandy pouted. “But I was going to help you find your new apocalypse buddy.”

“No, you’re not.” Liz pulled away and crossed her arms. “I’m just going to hope that he comes into the coffee shop some day and I recognize him. He can’t look too different out of costume.”

“Whatever you say,” Mandy said, clearly disappointed. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

The bell over the door rang and a group of ten college students entered. “The study group is early today.” Liz checked the bakery display. “Do we have any more chocolate chip muffins in the back?”

“I’ll check, then help you with the order.” Mandy winked at a couple of the cuter guys and Liz rolled her eyes. Those guys didn’t have a chance, even if she wasn’t already dating someone. Mandy was totally a badge bunny.

Liz stepped forward as the first customer reached the counter. “Hi guys. Your usual?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lassiter placed O'Hara's coffee on her desk and continued on to his own. He took a sip of his drink as he sat down. The barista may be annoying and insolent but he had to admit (if only to himself), she did know how to make a good cup of coffee.

O'Hara stood up and came over to his desk. “Were you nice to the barista?” she asked.

“Of course I was.” O’Hara gave him a look. “Well, I wasn’t mean to her.”

O’Hara sighed. “Carlton, we've talked about this. You need to be nicer to people.”

“They’re just so perky all the time,” Lassiter complained. “And she was definitely mocking me at the end.”

“If you were nicer to them, I'm sure they'd be nicer back,” O'Hara said. “They’re always polite and friendly to me.”

“Then maybe you should get the coffee from now on,” Lassiter muttered. He rubbed his temples, wishing his stupid headache would go away. That would teach him to drink too much when he had to work the next day.

O'Hara frowned. “What has you in such a crappy mood?”

“Whose says I'm in a crappy mood?” Lassiter argued. “I just want to get my work done in peace without people annoying me with useless questions.”

O'Hara tilted her head. “Is this about the woman from last night?”

“O'Hara, drop it,” he said warningly.

“You must have really liked her,” O'Hara said, completely ignoring him. _When had he stopped being able to intimidate her?_ “I mean, you've had dates run out on you before, so it’s not like this is a new experience.”

“Gee, thanks, O'Hara. I feel much better now,” he said in sarcastic awe.

“Why don't you look her up?” O'Hara suggested.

“That would be an inappropriate use of police resources,” Lassiter said disapprovingly, then sighed. “And I never got her name, so I couldn't even if I wanted to.”

O'Hara patted him gently on the shoulder. “I'm sorry, Carlton.”

“Jules!”

Lassiter groaned as Spencer and his sidekick headed over to them. As if his day wasn't bad enough already. “What are you doing here, Spencer?”

Spencer grinned at him. “Aw, is somebody hung-over?” Ignoring Lassiter's growl, he smiled at his girlfriend. “The Chief called us in.”

Lassiter frowned. “For what case?” He couldn't think of any they were currently assigned that Vick would call Psych in for.

“The one I'm about to give you.” They all turned as Vick walked over to them. “I need to see the four of you in my office right now.”

“So what kind of case is it?” Spencer asked eagerly. “Do we have to break up a league of ninja assassins? Go undercover in the mob to sabotage a drug smuggling ring?” Spencer gasped. “Did someone try to steal Zippy from the museum so they can play fetch with him like in that movie?” He turned to Guster. “Dude, we so need to spend another night in the museum. I told you that movie was real.”

“Never again, Shawn,” Guster said adamantly. “I risked the curse of the mummy once, I’m not doing it again.”

“Gentlemen,” Vick said, her voice stern as she interrupted them. “I’d rather not discuss the details out here. My office, now.”

Lassiter exchanged a look with O'Hara as he stood up. This sounded serious. Guster looked worried as well but Spencer just looked even more excited.

“Shut the door,” Vick said as the last of them entered. She waited until they were all seated before handing Lassiter a file. He glanced through it while she briefed them. “Anthony Robertos and Brad Mitchells were arrested three months ago for breaking into a high end jewelry store and stealing three million dollars worth of diamonds.”

Spencer let out a low whistle. “That's enough to buy a life time supply of astronaut food.”

O’Hara made a face. “Why would you want to?”

“Ice cream you can eat with your fingers,” Spencer said, as if it was obvious.

“May I continue please?” Vick said irritably. Spencer mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. She stared at him long enough for Spencer to start to squirm before continuing. “They were both due to appear in court this morning for the first day of their trial. About thirty minutes ago, Mitchells managed to escape. We’re still examining the security tapes to figure out exactly how and if he had any outside help. In the meantime, Robertos isn’t talking and there is still half a million dollars worth of diamonds unaccounted for. We need to find Mitchells before he runs.”

“A man hunt,” Spencer said, nodding approvingly. “Not as cool as ninja assassins but could be fun.”

“This is not a game, Mr. Spencer,” Vick said sharply. “Mitchells killed two security guards and one of the officers that attempted to detain him. He is dangerous and you two will not engage with him.”

Spencer wrinkled his nose. “Why would I want to marry him?”

“She means not to interact with him,” Guster hissed.

“Then why didn’t she just say that,” Spencer hissed back.

“If you two cannot behave, I will reconsider your father’s arguments against putting you on this case,” Vick threatened.

“That won’t be necessary,” Guster said, kicking Spencer in the leg.

“Ow!” Spencer rubbed his leg, shooting Guster a dark look. “We’ll be on our best behavior, Chief.”

“Do we really need them?” Lassiter asked. Man hunts were tricky to organize effectively and Spencer had a knack for messing things up. “We don’t need another repeat of the Tancana case.”

“Shawn did track him down, twice, while we had no idea where to look,” O’Hara pointed out.

Lassiter wanted to snap at her, but she looked subdued at the reminder of the time she had lost a convict. “This time, you run every lead by me before you go running off,” he said to Spencer severely.

Spencer grinned, un-intimidated. _Had he completely lost his touch?_ “No problem, Lassie-face.”

“I already have officers canvassing the area and setting up road blocks,” Vick said. “I want the four of you to go down to the court house and see if you can find anything that will tell us where he’s headed. We'll meet back here in one hour for a full briefing.”

“On it, Chief,” Lassiter said eagerly. This would be just the thing to make him forget all about last night.

“And detectives?” Vick said as they stood to leave. “I don’t need to tell you how important this is. We need to find him quickly.”

Lassiter and O’Hara nodded. Spencer gave a thumbs up. “You can count on us, Chief,” he said.

“Good. Now get going.”

The four exited the office, Lassiter and O’Hara heading to their desks to grab their coats. Spencer followed him. “Can I see that file, Lassie?”

Lassiter narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“So I can peruse it on the way to the courthouse and have a better sense of how Mitchells’ astral trail will feel,” Spencer said without batting an eye. “With that many people there, it will be hard to pick out otherwise.”

Lassiter rolled his eyes. He didn’t believe Spencer for a second but he had already gotten all the pertinent information from the file. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks.” Spencer walked over to O’Hara and glanced around. “We’ll meet you there, Jules,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. She blushed slightly, causing Spencer to grin as he walked away.

O’Hara noticed Lassiter watching her and the blush deepened. She ducked her head as she came over to him. “Ready to go?”

He wasn’t jealous of Spencer; he really wasn’t. He viewed O’Hara as a friend, not a love interest. It just wasn’t fair that Spencer, the lazy slacker who had probably dated more women than people Lassiter had arrested, was in a relationship and he, the dependable stable detective, was not. He fingered the cloth in his pocket and made a decision. “In a minute. I’ll meet you outside.”

He waited until she was out of sight before looking for someone he could trust to handle something discreetly. “McNab!”

“Yes, Detective?” the eager officer asked as he hurried over.

“I have something I need you to do and no one else can know about it.” Lassiter pulled out the scrap of fabric he had collected the night before. “There was a woman at the Halloween party last night wearing a costume made out of this type of material. I need you to find out who she was.”

McNab took the scrap carefully. “How do you want me to go about doing that, sir?”

“I don’t know. Check the security tapes, talk to people, whatever you have to do,” Lassiter said in exasperation. _Couldn’t anyone do their jobs without asking a million questions?_ “But don’t let anyone know why you are asking and don’t lose that scrap.”

“Yes sir!” McNab folded the fabric scrap carefully and placed it in his breast pocket. “You can count on me, sir.”

“Good. Now get to work.” He watched McNab scamper off before he headed out after O’Hara. He had a fugitive to catch.


	3. Following the Bread Crumbs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. My cat is still sick and with us being understaffed at work my week has been very stressful. I almost forgot I was supposed to post this today. 
> 
> This one is a little short but that was just the way the chapters ended up falling. Hopefully you will all still enjoy it.

Three days later, they had made no progress tracking down their escaped convict. He and O’Hara had just returned from checking another false lead and were now waiting for the prison to bring Robertos back in for questioning. Hopefully, this time Lassiter would be able to get something out of him that would give a clue to his partner’s whereabouts.

To make matters worse, he hadn’t heard anything about his mystery woman either. Spotting McNab, he hoped this case he would be able to make some progress on. “McNab!” He waited until the officer hurried over before asking in a lowered voice, “Did you find out anything with that assignment I gave you?”

“I was just coming to find you, sir.” McNab glanced around before leaning in and lowering his voice as well. “I wasn’t able to find out who she is yet but I was able to find out some information.”

“Information about who?”

Lassiter turned and found Spencer standing behind him. _Damn man_ _is_ _like a cat._ “Nobody,” he said quickly.

Spencer glanced between him and McNab. “Really? You’re not asking Nabby here how the search for the mysterious fairy from the Halloween party is going?”

“I didn’t tell him,” McNab said when Lassiter glared at him. His expression was so earnest the detective was forced to believe him.

He turned his glare on Spencer. “Then it was O’Hara, wasn’t it?” His partner told her boyfriend way too much that was none of his business.

“Maybe I just read it from your thoughts. I _am_ psychic you know.” Spencer said with a smug grin.

Lassiter crossed his arms. “Leave. Now.”

“Come on, Lassie, I can help,” Spencer said. “Whatever information Buzz was able to find out I can use to psychically track her down.”

“Absolutely not.”

Spencer turned to McNab. “Help me out here buddy.”

McNab looked apologetically at Spencer. “Actually, I think I found someone who might know who she is.”

“Who?” Lassiter asked urgently. McNab glanced at Spencer. “I don’t care if he hears, just tell me what you know,” he said, too impatient at this point to care. Spencer would somehow find out everything anyway.

“Well, I wasn’t able to find anyone from the party who knew her and very few people saw her.” He led the way over to the front desk and picked up a photo. “However, Juliet got me the photos Shawn took at the party and I think I found her.”

That explained how Spencer found out; his partner really couldn’t lie well to people she knew personally. He studied the photo McNab handed him, ignoring Spencer as he tried to peer over his shoulder. He couldn’t make out her face but he recognized the dress. “That’s her.” He pointed to the other woman in the photo. “Who’s this?”

McNab pulled out his note pad. “All I was able to find out is her name is Mandy and she was there with Officer Parker.”

“So we find Officer Parker and hopefully find out who the girl is,” Spencer concluded.

McNab nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

“Good work, McNab,” Lassiter said, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’ll take it from here.”

McNab looked vaguely disappointed but nodded. “Sure thing, sir.”

Spencer tilted his head. “Shouldn’t you be concentrating on finding that escaped convict instead of chasing after an innocent woman, admittedly hot though she is?”

“Watch it, Spencer,” Lassiter growled.

Spencer held up his hands. “Relax dude. I already have a girl.”

“Then how about you go find her and figure out where the convict is heading,” Lassiter snapped. “You know, the case you were actually _hired_ for?”

Spencer smirked. “Are you ordering me to go spend time with my girlfriend?”

Lassiter glared at him. “Spencer, would you just get out of here?!”

“Okay, okay, no need to shout,” Spencer said, backing away. “You’ll make me think you don’t like me or something. My feelings are very fragile, you know.”

Lassiter waited until he was positive Spencer was out of earshot before turning back to McNab. “Where is Parker?”

“Downstairs in the copy room. Oh, and don’t forget this.” McNab pulled the scrap of fabric from his pocket.

Lassiter took it, feeling better now that he had back the one piece of physical proof that the woman existed. “Thank you.”

“No problem sir. I hope you find her.” McNab reached out as if to pat his shoulder and paused, hand hanging awkwardly in the air. Instead, he gave Lassiter a hopeful smile before leaving.

Lassiter shook his head. He didn’t have time to deal with McNab’s weirdness. O’Hara could yell at him about it later.

Following McNab’s instructions, Lassiter went to the copy room and found Officer Parker standing next to a pile of records. “Do you know this woman?” he asked, thrusting the photo in the officer's face.

Parker’s eyes crossed as he attempted to look at the picture an inch from his nose. “Um, maybe?”

“You were seen at the Halloween party with one of them,” Lassiter prompted.

Parker took a step back and studied the picture. “Well, the woman on the right is my girlfriend, Amanda Sinclair.”

_Bingo._ “What about the other woman?”

Parker shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe one of her friends? I didn’t see her that night.” He looked from the picture to Lassiter’s face. “What is this about exactly?”

“I need to find this woman,” Lassiter said, pointing to his mystery woman. “To do so, I’ll need to talk to your girlfriend. Where can I find her?”

“She should be working at the coffee shop today. Hometown Beanery, the one near the station? She’s one of the baristas.”

Lassiter looked at the picture but couldn’t recall if he remembered her from the coffee shop or not. “All right. I’ll go talk to her.”

“Wait!” Parker grabbed his arm before he could leave. “She’s not in trouble, is she?”

“That depends on if she can tell me the whereabouts of the woman I’m looking for.” If he had the time, he would have felt bad about the worried look on Parker’s face. But right now he needed to get over to the coffee shop and find his woman.

Leaving Parker to his copying, Lassiter hurried from the room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lassiter entered Hometown Beanery and went straight to the counter. “I need to speak with Amanda Sinclair.”

The woman, whose name tag read “Liz,” looked apologetically at the customer Lassiter had brushed aside. “I’m sorry. If you can give me one moment?” she said to the man.

“I was here first,” the man said, eyeing Lassiter crossly.

Lassiter pulled out his badge. “Police business. Scram.”

The customer threw Lassiter a dirty look and walked away. “The coffee stinks here anyway,” he shouted as he slammed the door behind him.

Liz crossed her arms and gave the detective an annoyed look. “Mandy isn’t here.”

_Of course not. Why would_ _ **anything**_ _go right for me this week?_ “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“She left early. She won’t be back until tomorrow.”

Lassiter sighed in frustration. “Do you have a phone number for her? Or maybe her address?”

Liz’s eyes narrowed. “Just what is this about?”

“Police business,” Lassiter said brusquely.

Liz stared at him for a long moment. “I think I have her number in the back.”

“I’ll wait.” He turned to survey the shop as Liz walked off. It was sparsely populated at this time of day. Too late for the lunch rush and too early for those getting out of their nine to fives. He identified a few college students, a teenager that was probably ditching school or a drop out, and two guys in the corner that looked like they were coming down from something.

There was also a man sitting to his right near the wall. He too was watching the shop closely while sipping his coffee. When he noticed the detective looking at him, he ducked his head, suddenly finding his napkin fascinating. Alarm bells started going off in Lassiter’s head.

“Here you go.”

Lassiter barely kept himself from jumping. He turned around and glared at Liz. “Took you long enough.”

Liz narrowed her eyes. “So sorry, detective,” she said sarcastically. “Was there anything else you needed?”

Lassiter was about to say no when he noticed Liz’s eyes also going to the man in the corner. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “How long has he been sitting there?”

“A couple of hours,” Liz said, also keeping her voice low. “He keeps buying more coffee so we have no reason to kick him out.”

The man took out his phone and typed something before standing up. Lassiter watched out of the corner of his eye as he walked towards the trash can. “Want me to get rid of him?”

“I can take care of myself, detective,” Liz said indignantly. “I’m not some helpless maiden looking for a white knight.”

Lassiter turned to fully face her. “Well, excuse me for offering to help. Next time someone jumps you in a dark alley, I’ll make sure **not** to come.”

Liz shook her head. “You know, sometimes I can’t believe someone like you became a cop, let alone a detective.”

“That’s _head detective_ ,” Lassiter corrected.

Liz rolled her eyes. “Sorry, _head detective_ ,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. A yelp and a splash from behind him had them both turning. “Just great,” she sighed.

The man had apparently bumped into one of the college students, spilling coffee all over both of them and the floor. Liz grabbed a handful of napkins and a rag and came around the counter.

“Be careful,” Lassiter said.

Liz glared at him. “I can handle a little spill.” She passed out napkins and started wiping up the floor.

It happened almost too fast for Lassiter to follow. One second, Liz was cleaning the floor, the next she was jerked upright against the man with a knife at her throat. Lassiter immediately pulled his gun. “Drop the knife.”

The customers nearest to the action froze, unsure what to do. Those further away started edging towards the door. Lassiter noticed them out of the corner of his eye but kept his focus on the man holding Liz. “Drop. The. Knife.”

“I don’t think so.” The man raised his voice, addressing the entire coffee shop. “I want everyone to slowly and calmly exit the building. The detective and I have some business to conduct.”

Some of the customers started heading for the door, others looked to Lassiter in confusion. “Do what he says,” he barked, keeping his eyes on the man. He heard the rest of the customers leave and smirked. “They’re going to tell everyone what is going on in here. Seems like a pretty stupid move.”

“It’s all part of the plan,” the man said confidently. “Now, put your gun on the counter and back away from it.” When Lassiter didn’t move, he dug the knife into Liz’s neck deep enough to draw blood. “Move.”

Liz met his gaze, her earlier confidence fading to fear as blood slowly dripped down her neck. He put his gun on the counter and stepped back. “You won’t get away with this. The police will have this place surrounded in minutes.”

The man grinned. “Good.”

Liz’s eyes widened. “Detective – ” She was cut off when the man tightened his hold around her chest.

“Quiet, girl,” the man hissed into her ear. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Then let her go,” Lassiter said.

“I can’t. I need to make sure you are going to cooperate.”

Lassiter ground his teeth, hating that the man was right. He would cooperate in order to keep a civilian safe. “What do you want?”

The man shook his head. “It’s not me that wants something.”

Lassiter heard the scuff of a shoe behind him. He quickly tried to turn around but he was too slow. Something hit him hard on the side of his head before everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love cliffhangers :)
> 
> Don't worry, only a week to find out what happens next.


	4. How to Make a Dramatic Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really starting to hate snow. We didn't get hit as hard as some people did but it was enough to make work crazy this past week. I hope everybody reading this made it through okay.

Lassiter slowly returned to consciousness with a throbbing pain in his head. He cracked open his eyes and groaned, the light painfully bright.

“Lassiter?” A hand pressed down on his shoulder. “Stay still.”

He opened his eyes again, forcing them to adjust. He was lying on the floor, looking up at off white ceiling tiles. Turning his head slightly, he saw Liz crouched next to him, pressing something against the side of his head. He could see a trail of dried blood along the side of her neck but the cut didn't appear to be bleeding anymore. “What happened?”

Liz pursed her lips. “That other guy knocked you out, then they brought both of us back here and locked the door.”

Right, someone had snuck up behind him while he was distracted. Lassiter looked around. 'Here' was apparently a storage room in the back of the shop. No windows and no way to tell what was going on outside.

He hissed as Liz shifted her hand against his head. “What are you doing?”

“You were bleeding pretty badly from where they hit you.” She bit her lip as she examined the wound. “Though it looks like it’s started to slow down.”

“Head wounds always bleed a lot,” he said from unfortunate experience. He reached up to feel where Liz was pressing. “I've got it.”

Liz moved back, watching him carefully as he sat up. “I've got more napkins if you need them.”

“I'm good for now.” Being upright was making him dizzy and a bit nauseous. Great, that meant he probably had a concussion. There was nothing he could do about that now, so he focused instead on their situation. “How long have we been in here?”

“I don't know, maybe ten minutes?” Liz shrugged. “I didn't have a way to check the time.”

That was long enough for the police to respond and have the place surrounded, which was exactly what these guys wanted. Whatever they planned to do, they would be doing it soon. He removed the napkins and checked his head, glad to feel that the bleeding had finally stopped. He looked over at Liz to find her staring at him oddly. “What?”

“Nothing, just. . .” Liz tilted her head. “I never noticed how blue your eyes are before.”

Lassiter was struck with an intense feeling of déjà vu. The woman at the party had said the same thing. Before he could ask her about it, the door opened.

The man Lassiter was calling “Jack” in his head (due to his uncanny resemblance to Nicholson in his younger years and his general creep factor) came in, grabbed Liz off the floor and again put a knife to her throat. Lassiter growled, rising to his feet more quickly than was wise. The room started spinning and he had to keep a hand on the wall to steady himself. “Let her go.”

“You’re in no position to make demands, detective,” the second man said as he entered the room.

Lassiter glared at him. Brad Mitchells, the fugitive he had been hunting for the last three days, and now his captor. He wondered what he had done for the universe to punish him like this. Maybe he shouldn’t have cut off that nun, though he was in pursuit of a suspect at the time. “What do you want?” he asked through clenched teeth.

Mitchells pulled out a cell phone. “I want the number for your police chief. I assume by now she’s outside making sure the building is surrounded.”

“You’re not going to get away with this,” Lassiter promised.

Mitchells smirked. “Ah, but I have her head detective and an innocent civilian. I think she’ll be willing to work with me.” He held the phone out to Lassiter. “Dial.”

Lassiter glanced over at Liz and Jack. Mitchells followed his gaze. “I wouldn’t try anything.” Jack tightened his grip on Liz, adding a second shallow cut to the one he had given her earlier. “Dial.”

Lassiter met Liz’s frightened eyes and took the phone. He quickly dialed the Chief’s personal number and handed it back to Mitchells.

“Good boy,” Mitchells said with a sneer. Lassiter balled his hands into fists but did nothing as Mitchells spoke. “Is this Chief Vick? Good. As I’m sure you’re aware by now, I have your detective and a civilian. If you want to see either of them alive again, I demand the release of my partner as well as the diamonds you confiscated. We’ll also need a car, something nondescript. We’ll be bringing one of the hostages with us and will release them once we are safely away to make sure you guys don’t try anything.”

“She’ll never agree to that,” Lassiter said.

Mitchells held the phone against his chest. “For your sake, you better hope she does.” He brought the phone back up to his ear. “I know you brought Tony in for questioning so I think an hour would be fair to get everything together.” He listened for a moment, then, strangely, held the phone out to Lassiter. “She wants to speak to you. Proof that our hostages are safe.” He jerked the phone away as Lassiter reached for it. “No funny business.”

Lassiter carefully took the phone. “This is Lassiter.”

“ _Detective, are you alright?_ ” Vick asked.

“A bit banged up but I’ll live.” He glanced over at Liz. “The woman is fine too.”

“ _Good_.” He could hear the relief in her voice. “ _I want you to cooperate with them. No heroics. Do you understand me?_ ”

“Yes ma’am,” Lassiter said reluctantly. He knew it was the safest course of action but he hated being at the mercy of two thugs.

Vick seemed to sense his reluctance. “ _That’s an order, detective. Stay put and we’ll have you out of there soon._ ”

“That’s long enough.” Mitchells grabbed the phone back. “One hour or you will have a couple of dead hostages on your hands.” He ended the call and dropped the phone on the floor. One well-placed stomp smashed the screen and a second rendered the phone useless. “Mayson, let the girl go.”

Mayson put the knife away and shoved Liz at Lassiter. Already off balance, the two of them fell back against the wall. “Cooperate with us and you two might make it out of this alive,” Mitchells said.

Lassiter glared at Mitchells, knowing the chances of himself coming out of this alive were slim. But he would be damned if he let them kill Liz. Mitchells smirked, as if he knew what was going through the detective’s head. Mitchells and Mayson exited the room and locked the door behind him.

After a moment, Lassiter realized he was still holding Liz. With a jerk, he let her go and took a hasty step back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She wrapped her arms around herself and glanced at the closed door. “Those guys are dangerous.”

“Yes, they are.” Lassiter watched her grab some napkins and gently pat her neck. “Let me see,” he said, stepping over to her. She arched her neck and let him turn her head gently to examine the cuts. “It doesn't look deep.” Her skin was very soft beneath his fingers, her neck a long and slender arch. He felt the urge to press his lips to it, right at the base of her jawline. He wondered how she would react. He wondered how she would taste.

With a jolt, he realized he had been staring at her neck longer than he needed to check her cuts and definitely long enough for her to notice. He quickly dropped his hand and stepped away again.

“That's good,” Liz said, a faint blush staining her cheeks. She pressed the napkins back against her neck.

Lassiter slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes. “If I was any good at my job, you wouldn't have gotten hurt at all. Mitchells is the second person I couldn’t find this week.”

“Well, you found him now,” Liz pointed out with false cheer.

“Yup. Just in time for him to get away with several million dollars worth of diamonds,” Lassiter lamented.

They both were silent for several minutes. “So, who was the other person?”

Lassiter opened his eyes and looked over at her. “What other person?”

Liz checked the napkin pressed to her neck, then put it aside. “The other person you were looking for.”

Lassiter reached into his pocket and fingered the strip of cloth. “Just someone I met at a party. I never got her name.” He remembered the feeling he had gotten earlier and glanced sideways at Liz. Her hair was curly, though it was hard to tell how long tied back the way it was. She was the right height and build and her eyes were the same unusually dark hue. He pulled the fabric out of his pocket and handed it to her. “The only thing I have is a scrap of her costume. I’m guessing it tore when she left.”

Liz ran her fingers over the smooth fabric. He knew when she recognized it, because her head snapped up and she looked at him in surprise. “You’re the cowboy?”

“Sheriff,” Lassiter corrected her.

Liz shook her head. “Wow. Out of all the people I guessed it would be, you were never even a remote possibility. Not that there is anything wrong with you,” she added quickly. “It’s just. . . well. . .”

“I don’t have the best social skills?” he suggested wryly.

Liz shrugged. “You weren’t doing too badly at the party.”

“Why’d you leave then?” Lassiter asked curiously. He had guessed at the time she was hiding something but as the days passed he had begun to wonder if he had done something to put her off.

Liz looked down, picking at the torn edges of the scrap. “I didn’t, exactly, have permission to be there,” she admitted.

Lassiter didn't question any further. It wouldn’t do to have to arrest the woman he was interested in dating. Though with the situation they were currently in, dating might not be something they had to worry about. He looked around the room with renewed energy. “We need to find a way out of here.”

“I know a way.”

Lassiter raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

Liz nodded. “The ceiling tile in the corner is loose. Once you get up there, you can crawl to anywhere in the shop.”

“Can you get outside?” he asked, thinking it would be best to get Liz to safety before taking on Mitchells.

Liz nodded. “Yeah, there’s a grate in the back that you can get to that opens onto the back alley.”

Lassiter looked at her curiously. “How do you know all this?”

Liz blushed. “Mandy. She used to sneak her boyfriends back here so she could make out with them during her break. She almost got caught a few times until one of them hid in the ceiling and found that secret way out.”

Saved by a barista’s promiscuous behavior. He would have to make sure Spencer _never_ heard of this. “Which tile?” Once Liz pointed it out, Lassiter started moving things around so they could climb the shelves to freedom. “Come on, we don’t have a lot of time.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As soon as Liz was up in the ceiling, she started crawling to the front of the store. She knew Lassiter was going to go after those guys and there was no way she was leaving him on his own.

She heard the detective scrambling up behind her and a muttered curse as he saw where she was heading. “Liz! Get back here!” he hissed.

She ignored him and continued moving forward. The space was dusty and she had to fight the urge to sneeze several times as she cautiously crept forward. She could make out voices underneath her now and guessed she was over the counter area.

She tried to pry up the edge of a ceiling tile and raised a cloud of dust. Quickly raising her hand to her nose to smother the sneeze, she started to lose her balance. She stuck her other hand out to catch herself but it went right through the tile next her. She scrambled to find something else to grab as she heard Lassiter cursing behind her. She felt his fingers brush her ankle as she lost the fight with gravity and tumbled down from the ceiling.

She landed hard on her right arm and for a moment all she could do was curl around it and gasp from the pain. She breathed in a cloud of dust from the broken tile and started coughing, each jolt of her body making her arm throb. She hoped it wasn’t broken.

“What do you know? Chicks really do fall from the sky.”

Liz looked up to see Mayson standing over her. He grinned and pulled out his knife. “I don't think Mitchells will mind if we have a little fun. I'll just say I had to subdue you when you tried to escape.” He laughed. “Hell, that's even the truth.” He reached down towards her and she scrambled backwards on the floor, glancing around frantically for something to use as a weapon.

Lassiter swung down from the ceiling, feet catching Mayson right in the chest and knocking him back into the counter. Her assailant hit his head, groaning as he slumped down to the floor. Lassiter landed on his feet, watching Mayson warily to make sure he stayed down.

“Nice entrance,” she said gratefully.

“Thanks.” Lassiter picked up Mayson's knife from where it had dropped and walked over to her. “Are you hurt?”

Liz sat up, cradling her right arm against her chest. “Just my arm. I landed on it when I fell.” Lassiter held out his hand and helped pull her up. Movement behind the detective drew her attention. “Lassiter. . .”

There was a loud click behind the detective. He closed his eyes and grimaced. “Mitchells.”

“You really need to remember to watch your back, Lassiter,” Mitchells said, stepping forward with a gun pointed at Lassiter's head.

Lassiter turned slowly and his eyes narrowed. “That's my gun.”

Mitchells glanced at the gun in his hand. “Yes, it is,” he said smugly. “Drop the knife.” When Lassiter hesitated, he pointed the gun at Liz. “I won’t ask again.”

Lassiter placed the knife carefully on the ground. “Now kick it over.” When he did, Mitchells picked it up and placed it in his belt. “Now back away from the woman.”

Lassiter glanced at Liz but slowly did as Mitchells ordered. Liz swallowed hard as Mitchells turned his focus to her. She tried to back away but Mitchells was faster than she thought. She yelped as he painfully grabbed her injured arm and pulled her to his side.

Lassiter tensed, hands curling into fists. “Don’t hurt her,” he snarled.

“I won’t if you cooperate,” Mitchells said. He kept his gun trained on Lassiter, figuring him to be the bigger threat. “Now, we are going to go into the back and this time I’m tying the both of you up so you can’t pull this stunt again.”

Liz waited until she meet Lassiter’s eyes and gave a slight nod. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest what she was about to do. Before he could and ruin the element of surprise, she drove her elbow back into Mitchells’ solar plexus. While he was gasping, she bent back the index finger on his left hand until he was forced to loosen his grip on her.

As soon as she pulled herself free, Lassiter moved in. He tackled Mitchells, hand going for the gun. Liz backed away as the two wrestled on the floor. There was a deafening bang as the gun went off, firing harmlessly into the back wall.

Mitchells was fighting dirty, hitting Lassiter wherever he could. Lassiter kept his focus on the gun. He smashed Mitchells’ hand on the floor until the gun went skittering away. Mitchells let out a shout of rage and shoved Lassiter back into the counter. The detective cried out, clutching his head where it had slammed into it. Liz could see blood starting to well between his fingers.

Mitchells clambered to his feet. “You stupid man!” He kicked Lassiter viciously in the ribs. “I tried to give you a chance but you just. Wouldn’t. Listen!” He punctuated each word with a kick as Lassiter groaned and tried to curl up to protect himself. Mitchells stood there panting, looking down at the injured detective. “It’s time to do what I should have done from the beginning,” he said, pulling out the knife.

Liz had stayed out of the fight until now, but she wasn't going to let Mitchells kill her potential new boyfriend. Luckily, Mitchells seemed to have forgot she was in the room. Seizing her chance, she came up behind him and jumped on his back. She wrapped her bad arm around his neck and used her other hand to claw at his eyes.

“AHHHH!” Mitchells swung his arms and twisted, trying to knock her off. Liz held on tightly with both arms, knowing if she was knocked free she would be an easy target. Mitchells stumbled back from Lassiter and slammed her into the wall. The force of the hit knocked the wind out of her and her grip loosened. Mitchells grabbed her arm and twisted, throwing her down to the floor.

The fall knocked the wind out of her. Mitchells stepped over her as she lay there gasping. “I guess you have a death wish too.”

“I don’t think so.” Mitchells froze as Lassiter pressed his gun to the back of his head. The detective was swaying and was struggling to stay conscious but Liz didn’t doubt for a second he would still manage to put a bullet in Mitchells if he tried anything. “I’ll take that,” he said, grabbing the knife and tossing it away.

Suddenly, cops swarmed in through the front and back doors. They froze in surprise when they saw Lassiter and Mitchells.

“It's about time,” Lassiter snapped. “What were you waiting for, an engraved invitation?” He gestured at two of the officers. “Cuff him.”

Juliet had been among one of the first to enter and now went over to Lassiter. “Carlton, maybe you should sit down,” she said gently, trying to take his arm.

He pulled away from her, stumbling a bit. “I’m fine.” He pointed towards the corner. “There’s another one over there.”

Juliet looked over at Mayson, then back at Lassiter. Her gaze slid past over to where Liz was lying on the floor. She started to walk over there when Lassiter stopped her. “I’ve got it. Take care of Mayson.”

Juliet studied him for a moment, then glanced at Liz. She sat up slowly, meeting Juliet’s eyes, and nodded. She would make sure Lassiter was taken care of. Juliet sighed before directing the rest of the officers towards the unconscious Mayson.

Lassiter came over and crouched down next to her. “Are you okay?”

Liz ran through all the new body parts that were complaining and decided nothing was protesting loudly enough to be serious besides her arm. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good.” Lassiter's eyes rolled back and he slumped sideways. Liz caught him right before he hit his head on the floor again. “Help! Juliet!”

Juliet rushed over and helped lay Lassiter gently on the floor. She swore loudly when she noticed the blood coating the back of his head. “We need a medic in here!” She checked his pulse, then put a hand against his chest. He groaned, his breath stuttering, but didn’t wake up.

“Is he okay?” Liz asked worriedly.

“I don’t know,” Juliet said, biting her lip. “What happened?”

“Mitchells knocked him out earlier, then he hit his head again while they were fighting.” Liz remembered the kicks Mitchells had delivered while Lassiter was on the ground. “He got kicked in the chest a few times too.”

A couple of medics arrived, pushing past the other officers. Juliet helped Liz up and out of their way so they could reach the fallen detective. “He has a head injury and possibly broken ribs,” Juliet said.

One of the medics nodded. “We got it, detective.” Liz watched as they worked on Lassiter, trying to gauge from their actions and expressions how worried she should be.

“Are you okay?” Juliet asked, causing her to jump.

Liz shrugged. “I'll manage.”

Juliet frowned. Gently, she lifted Liz's chin and looked at the cuts on her neck.

Liz jerked away. “They're not deep. They're not even bleeding anymore.” A third medic had brought in a stretcher and they were loading Lassiter onto it.

“And your arm?” Juliet asked. “Don't tell me you didn't hurt it. I work with Carlton, the king of hiding injuries.” She dragged Liz over to the medics who were just finishing getting Lassiter ready to move. “Do you have room for one more in the rig?”

The third medic, the one who had brought in the stretcher, came over. Her name tag read 'Susan.' “What's the problem?” she asked.

“She's got a possibly broken wrist and a few cuts that should be looked at,” Juliet said, pushing Liz forward.

Susan tsked at the cuts on her neck and examined her wrist. “It's probably just sprained but it should be checked out. Guys, we got another one,” she called back to her partners.

“We need to get him out of here now, so get her over to the rig,” one of them said. The first two started wheeling Lassiter out of the building, the officers in the way immediately clearing a path.

“We'll take care of both of them, Juliet,” Susan said.

Juliet nodded. “I'll see you at the hospital,” she said to Liz.

“Okay. Thank you,” Liz said quietly.

Juliet patted her arm, then went over to where Liz could see another medic team working on Mayson.

Susan led her outside and over to the ambulance. Once Lassiter was loaded, she got Liz seated inside next to him and opposite of her. “If something goes wrong, you'll have to move so one of my partners can get to Lassiter,” she said, handing Liz an ice pack.

Liz nodded. Lassiter looked too pale, especially with the oxygen mask obscuring half his face. His shirt had been opened and she could see bruises already forming on the left side of his chest. She tried not to let her gaze linger too long; he was unconscious and it felt like she was taking advantage of him. She let her eyes roam over the rest of his body, noting the IV line and a rough bandage at the back of his head.

“He looks worse than he is,” Susan said softly.

Liz took a deep breath and nodded, not trusting herself to talk. She reached out and took one of Lassiter's hands, squeezing it gently. She didn't let go until they reached the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as bad a cliffhanger as last time. Once again, you'll only have to wait a week to find out what happens next.


	5. Real Life Consequences

“There you go, Ms. Holden. You'll need to keep that splint on for the next four weeks but your wrist will heal just fine.”

Liz ran her fingers along the tan splint on her right arm. This was going to make her weekly weapons practice a challenge. Good thing she made sure to practice with her left arm as well. “Thank you, doctor.”

“I'll get you a prescription for some pain meds and your discharge papers so you can go home,” he said.

Liz nodded. She really wanted to go home, take a long, hot soak in her tub, and forget this day had ever happened. After she found out how Lassiter was doing. They had been separated once they reached the hospital and she hadn't been able to find out anything about him.

Maybe the universe was trying to make up for her horrible day, because Juliet came in as soon as the doctor left the room. “So, what's the prognosis?”

“Bad sprain. I have to wear a splint for a month.” Liz held up her arm.

Juliet winced in sympathy. “That sucks.” She pulled a chair up to Liz's bed and sat down, pulling out a notepad. “Mind if we talk for a minute?”

Liz sighed. “Police business?”

Juliet nodded. “I need to get your statement while it's still fresh in your mind.”

“Can I ask something first?” When Juliet nodded, she asked, “How is Lassiter?”

Juliet frowned. “He's still unconscious. The doctor said he has a moderate concussion and three cracked ribs. Right now, all we can do is wait for him to wake up.”

It didn't sound good and Juliet looked as worried as Liz felt. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to help this time. She sighed. “Where do you want me to start?”

Juliet thought for a moment. “When did Mayson first come into the coffee shop?”

“Around noon.” Liz recited everything she could remember about Mayson, what happened once Lassiter entered the shop and all the way through to when the police burst in. The only thing she left out was the conversation they had in the storage room about the party. She didn't think that was relevant to the case and until she talked to Lassiter again, she didn't want anyone to know about it.

Juliet listened to it all, making notes and asking the occasional question. When she finished, the detective shook her head. “I can't believe he pulled a stunt like that. What was he thinking?”

“I think he felt responsible for what happened because he was the one trying to find Mitchells,” Liz said. She had had a lot of time to think about everything while waiting for the doctor to show up. “He saved my life,” she added quietly.

“Which wouldn't have needed saving if you had gone out the back like Carlton asked you to,” Juliet pointed out with a disapproving frown.

“I didn't want him going after Mitchells without any help.” Liz shrugged and looked away. “It didn't exactly go as planned.”

“I'll say.” Juliet stood up and put her notepad away. “That's all I need for now. You'll need to come down to the station to give your official statement soon. I'll go find your doctor so you can get out of here.”

The doctor must have been waiting for Juliet to finish because they both returned within a couple of minutes. Liz got her prescription and Juliet helped her fill out the discharge papers (she could fight left handed but couldn't write very well). Once she was free to leave, she was unsure what to do next.

“What is that in your hand?” Juliet asked.

Liz looked down at the scrap of fabric. She had taken it out while waiting for the doctor to come back, finding it soothing to rub the smooth fabric. “Nothing.”

“May I?” Juliet asked. She examined it for a minute before handing it back. “You're the woman from the party.”

“Um, yeah,” Liz said, surprised Lassiter had said anything about it.

“I guess since you have that, Carlton figured it out.” Juliet smiled at her reassuringly. “I'm glad. He's been insufferable the last few days trying to find you.”

“Really?” Liz asked, unable to hide a smile.

Juliet nodded. “You really made an impression on him.”

Liz looked back down at the scrap, rubbing it slowly. “Would you mind if I waited here until Lassiter woke up? I want to make sure he's okay.”

Juliet gently put her hand on Liz's arm, causing her to look up. “Of course,” she said kindly. “There are a bunch of us already gathered in the waiting room. You can join us.”

“Thank you.” Liz could feel tears pricking her eyes and swallowed hard as she looked away again.

Juliet stepped back. “I'll give you a minute to yourself. You'll be able to find us easily once you’re ready.”

Liz nodded, waiting until Juliet left to wipe her eyes. She wasn't normally so emotional but today had definitely not been a normal day. Between being held hostage, finding her mystery man, getting into a life and death struggle and almost losing Lassiter when she had just found him. . .

Her breath hitched and she shook her head to clear it of the morbid thought. He was going to be fine; she had to believe that. She took a few deep breaths, centering herself like she had learned in her yoga classes. Once she felt calm again, she shoved the scrap in her pocket and left the room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lassiter slowly opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light. Boy, did this feel familiar. He must have made some kind of noise, because the light immediately dimmed. “Carlton?”

He turned his head, squinting to get the room into focus. O'Hara was sitting next to him and he appeared to be lying in a bed. Add in the steady beeping and the antiseptic smell and he had a pretty good idea of where he was. “Hospital?”

O'Hara nodded. “You passed out at the scene. That's what you get for running around with a concussion.” She reached over and pressed a button against the wall and he gave her a questioning look. “The doctor wanted to know when you woke up,” she explained.

“How long?”

O'Hara glanced at the clock. “About six hours.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “We were worried about you.”

“I'm fine,” he said, earning himself a snort. “In fact, as soon as I see the doctor, I'll be out of here.” He hated hospitals and didn't plan on sticking around any longer than he had to.

O'Hara raised an eyebrow. “We'll see about that.”

An older woman with blonde hair entered the room, followed by a nurse. “It's good to see you awake, detective. I'm Dr. Locklear and I've been treating you.”

“How soon can I leave?”

Dr. Locklear chuckled. “I was told that would be the first thing you would ask. First, let me examine you.” She checked his eyes and asked a few questions to determine his mental status. He winced when she checked the back of his head. “Stitches look good and no signs of infection.” She also checked his left side, causing a flare of pain.

“Broken ribs?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Just cracked.” She made a note on his chart and handed it to the nurse. “I'll get you some more pain meds. We didn't want to give you too strong a dose until you woke up.”

“So a concussion and cracked ribs, is that it?” Lassiter asked. He could manage fine on his own if there wasn't anything else wrong with him.

“Along with numerous contusions and a black eye. We want you to stay overnight for observation.” Dr. Locklear held up a hand. “And before you argue, Chief Vick is waiting outside to ensure you stay.”

Lassiter groaned. Sign out AMA one time with a head injury and pass out at a crime scene and nobody trusts you anymore.

“Cheer up, detective. I believe you'll recover fine, if you give yourself the chance to rest.” She looked over at O'Hara. “I know everyone wants to see him, but let's keep it to two at a time at most and keep the visits short.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I'll be back to check up on you later,” Dr. Locklear said.

Once the doctor left, Lassiter turned to O'Hara. “How much trouble am I in?”

“On a scale of one to ten? About fifty.” She grinned at Lassiter's groan. “That's what you get for disobeying a direct order. On the bright side, we got Mitchells and he had the missing diamonds on him. Plus, Jack Mayson was wanted on two outstanding burglary charges and was Mitchells’ accomplice at the court house.”

“His name was really Jack?” Lassiter asked in surprise. O'Hara frowned in confusion. “Never mind.” The collars would help but he had no doubt he would still be held responsible for what happened. He could probably consider the enforced hospital stay as the first part of his punishment.

“Maybe it won't be too bad,” O'Hara said unconvincingly.

Lassiter sighed. “I should have caught him sooner. It's my fault this happened.”

O'Hara frowned. “Carlton, nobody is blaming you for not finding Mitchells. They're only blaming you for going after him against a direct order. We had the place surrounded; there was no way he was getting away.”

“I guess.” It was still a hit to his pride, being captured like that. He couldn't have just sat there and done nothing. At least he'd had the satisfaction of taking Mitchells down before the police arrived. Well, with some help. “How's Liz?”

“Sprained wrist and some bruises but she'll be fine,” O'Hara said.

Lassiter frowned. “She shouldn't have been there. I told her to leave out the back while I took care of Mitchells.” Another point at which he had failed.

“She didn't want you going in alone,” O'Hara said. “And really, taking on two guys with a concussion? You needed the backup.”

“You talked to her?” Lassiter asked sharply.

O'Hara nodded. “She's been waiting with the rest of us for you to wake up. She wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“She did?” Lassiter could feel a smile threatening to break out on his face. He cleared his throat, struggling to keep his expression neutral.

O'Hara grinned. “I can see why you've been obsessing about her for days. She's an interesting woman.”

“How did you know it was her?” Lassiter asked in surprise.

O'Hara winked. “I have my ways.” She patted Lassiter's hand and stood up. “I'll go get her. I think you'll both be happier being able to see for yourselves your both fine.”

Lassiter couldn't argue with that. No matter what everyone said, he needed to see her in order to truly believe she was all right. He glanced around the room, wishing he had a mirror or some kind of reflective surface to check his reflection. His hair always got messy when he slept and the doctor had said something about a black eye. He hoped he didn't look too bad, although that may get him some sympathy points.

There was a light knock at the door and Liz poked her head in. “Hey, mind if I come in?”

“Not at all.” Lassiter watched as she entered the room and shut the door, using the time to study her. He could see her arm was in a splint and she was moving a bit stiffly but there didn't appear to be any major injuries. He relaxed slightly, relieved she hadn't been badly hurt.

Liz took the chair O'Hara had recently vacated. “How are you feeling?”

“I've been better,” Lassiter admitted. He started reaching towards Liz's hand without thinking, stopping himself at the last second and hoping she didn't notice. “How about you?”

Liz slowly took Lassiter's hand, lips twitching in a small smile when he didn't pull away. “Sore and my wrist is going to make life difficult for the next few weeks.” She shrugged. “I've been worse. You don't learn medieval weaponry without getting a few injuries along the way. At least this is better than when I broke my collar bone.”

Lassiter nodded. He knew from his own experience from a mountain biking accident (thank you O'Hara). “I'm sorry.”

Liz's brow furrowed in confusion. “For what?”

Lassiter felt the guilt welling up inside him. “For you getting hurt, for you being held hostage. Mayson never would have grabbed you if I hadn't been there.”

“I don't blame you for what he did. You’re not responsible for his actions.” She looked down at their clasped hands, gently tracing his knuckles. His skin sparked at her light touch. “If I wasn't there, it would have been Mandy or one of the other girls grabbed. They might not have been as helpful fighting against Mayson.”

“You shouldn't have been part of that fight,” he said. “I should have made you leave.”

Liz smirked. “If you had tried, Mitchells would have known something was up before we even left the room. I wasn't going to leave you on your own against those two.”

Lassiter sighed. Liz was probably right but it didn't make him feel any less guilty.

Liz poked him gently on the right side of his chest. “Hey, stop blaming yourself. I'm capable of getting into plenty of trouble on my own.”

“I'd believe it,” he muttered. Liz chuckled, the sound helping to ease some of the tightness in his chest. “So, you work in a coffee shop?”

Liz nodded. “I also teach at UC Santa Barbara part time. Medieval history.”

“I'm more into the Civil War period myself,” Lassiter said.

“If you decide to branch out, you can sit in on one of my classes, Carlton.” She made a face. “It's so weird using your first name.”

Lassiter rolled his eyes. “I'm sorry not everyone can have a normal name like Elizabeth.”

Liz blushed. “Actually, my first name is Eliza.”

Lassiter snorted. “And you're complaining about my name?”

“Shut up, Carlton,” Liz said, though she was grinning.

They both lapsed into silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, exactly, but Lassiter knew there were things the two of them were avoiding saying to each other. Not that he was eager to be the first one to say anything. He thought back over the day and how Liz had come to his rescue when he was lying on the floor. “You should have gone for my gun,” he said blurted out, then mentally kicked himself. _That's right, Carlton, critique the woman who saved your life. That will surely get her to go out with you._

“I don't know how to use one,” Liz said. “It seemed safer to jump him instead.”

“I could take you to a gun range and teach you, if you want,” Lassiter offered on impulse.

Liz raised an eyebrow. “Seems a strange location for a first date.”

“I – I didn’t mean – As an officer I have a duty to help the public,” Lassiter sputtered. Not that a date at a gun range sounded bad to him, but he knew most women didn't feel the same way. He clamped his mouth shut before he said anything else stupid.

“Oh.” Liz looked faintly disappointed.

Lassiter took a deep breath, ignoring the twinge in his side. He had faced down drug lords and murderers without breaking a sweat. Asking someone out shouldn't be this hard. “I would suggest a nice dinner for a first date. Maybe a movie.” It would be worth the price with Liz's company.

She smiled. “That sounds nice.”

Lassiter let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. “8 o’clock on Friday?”

“Seven would be better,” Liz said, smile widening.

“Seven it is,” Lassiter said, smiling as well.

The door opened and Spencer poked his head in. “Now that you two love birds are done asking each other out, can the rest of us come in?”

“Get out of here, Spencer!” Lassiter yelled, breath catching as his ribs throbbed painfully.

“All right, all right,” Spencer said. “Keep your shirt on. Well, hospital gown.”

Liz glanced at him worriedly. “I think you better leave, Shawn.”

Spencer glanced at him too and winced. “Sorry,” he said, closing the door.

Lassiter looked over at Liz once he caught his breath. “He has no sense of personal boundaries.”

Liz smiled. “I know. He stops by the coffee shop pretty often.” She looked at the door, then back at him, biting her lip. “I should go. There are people waiting to see you.”

“One thing first.” Tugging Liz down, he kissed her, putting as much energy into it while lying slightly breathless in a hospital bed. Her cheeks were bright red when she pulled away. “Now you can go.”

“Okay.” She turned back when she reached the door. “See you later, Carlton.”

Lassiter smiled, feeling pretty good for a man lying in a hospital bed with cracked ribs, a concussion, and a swarm of people about to descend on him. None of it mattered; he had a date with a beautiful woman to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue left. See you all next week.


	6. Happily Ever After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot to post this today. Just getting over a cold and had other things on my mind. It's short but after everything Lassiter and Liz have been through they deserve a happy ending.

_2 Months Later_

 

Lassiter glanced at the clock. It was going to be close, but if he pushed himself he should be able to get the rest of his paperwork done in time to leave early as planned.

McNab came over and added another file to his pile. “Sorry, sir,” he said, backing away quickly from Lassiter’s glare.

He knew it wasn’t McNab’s fault, but he couldn’t help wanting someone else to suffer along with him. He tried glaring at the new file but it was unimpressed. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. At least he could do that again without encountering a bare spot; the shaved patch where he’d had his stitches had finally grown back in. It had been annoyingly itchy as it did; almost as annoying as Spencer’s comments about it had been.

He looked over at O’Hara’s desk, where the fake psychic in question and his side kick were busy distracting his partner. He could probably have gotten her to help him with the paperwork if she wasn’t too busy fraternizing with her boyfriend. He grumbled as he bent his head to reapply himself to his report.

“Hey guys, I brought coffee!” Lassiter looked up and smiled as Liz walked towards him with several cups of coffee and a brown paper bag.

“This is a rare sight indeed, Guster,” Spencer said in a horrible Australian accent. “The grouchy Lassiopolis is smiling a greeting at his mate. Never in my five years of observing this creature have I seen such a sight.”

Guster elbowed Spencer in the side. “Knock it off, Shawn.”

“Here you go Carlton,” Liz said, placing a cup on his desk and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He fought the urge to blush and glared at Spencer when the man snickered.

“Juliet.” Liz passed his partner the next drink. “Shawn.” She pulled Spencer’s drink back as he started to eagerly reach for it. “No more picking on Carlton today. It’s our anniversary.”

Spencer glanced at Lassiter, then the coffee. “Fine,” he said with a sigh, taking the cup.

“What about me?” Guster asked.

Liz frowned. “I’m pushing my luck as it is without getting my boyfriend’s partner’s boyfriend’s best friend free coffee too.”

“Oh,” Guster said, looking crestfallen.

Liz rolled her eyes. “I’m kidding. Here.” She took the last coffee out of the holder and gave it to him.

“Thank you,” Guster said, eagerly taking a sip. He hummed happily. “You make the best coffee.”

Liz grinned smugly. “I know.” She placed a bag on O’Hara’s desk. “I also brought muffins.” As the two men pounced on the bag to O’Hara’s amusement, she walked over and sat on the edge of Lassiter’s desk. “How’s the coffee?”

“Perfect, like always,” he said, taking a sip. He nodded at Spencer. “Though I don’t like the idea of him getting caffeine. He’s too high-strung as it is.”

Liz leaned closer. “Don’t tell him, but I made his decaf,” she said quietly with a mischievous grin.

“Hey, what are you two love birds whispering about?” Spencer mumbled around a half-eaten muffin.

“Just our plans for tonight,” Liz lied smoothly.

“Right, your anniversary.” Spencer crammed the rest of the muffin in his mouth as he walked towards them, eyeing them thoughtfully. “So which anniversary is it?” he asked, spraying crumbs all over Lassiter’s desk.

“Hey, watch it!” Lassiter snapped, wiping moist crumbs off his report.

Spencer swallowed and grinned, unrepentant. “Sorry. But seriously, there are a lot of anniversaries you can celebrate this early in a relationship.”

Guster snorted. “Like you would know.”

“I’ll have you know Jules and I celebrated many anniversaries. Our first kiss, our first date, our first Mentalist marathon.” Spencer grinned suggestively at O’Hara. “Other firsts involving a bed. And some without.”

“Shawn!” O’Hara shouted, blushing furiously.

“If you do not stop talking, I will shoot you,” Lassiter threatened, making a face. He did not need to hear about his partner’s sex life, especially when it involved Spencer.

“Then tell me what anniversary it is,” Spencer whined.

Liz and Lassiter exchanged a look. “It’s a two month anniversary,” she said.

“And the rest is none of your business,” Lassiter added reproachfully.

Guster and O’Hara walked over to his desk, drawn by the conversation. “Two months,” Guster said thoughtfully. “Was that your first date?”

“Nope,” Liz said.

“What about the Halloween party where you guys first met?” O’Hara guessed.

Liz shook her head. “Wrong again.”

Spencer had been quiet, a slightly vacant look in his eyes. Now his gaze snapped to Lassiter in disbelief. “Seriously? The hostage situation?”

Lassiter shrugged. “What can I say? We bonded that day taking out those two thugs. It provided a solid base for our relationship.”

Spencer looked at Liz and she shrugged. “It was a pretty important day for both of us,” she agreed.

Spencer shook his head. “You guys seriously need some help.”

“Like you should talk,” Guster said. “You still celebrate the day you broke your arm skateboarding while hanging onto the back of John Havershire’s truck.”

“That’s because it led to my first kiss, even if it was a sympathy kiss,” Spencer explained.

“It also led to you being grounded for two months,” Guster said.

“So what are you guys doing?” O’Hara asked, ignoring the argument starting between Spencer and Guster.

“We’re going to the gun range,” Lassiter said excitedly. His ribs and Liz’s wrist were both fully healed and he could finally keep his promise to show her how to shoot a gun.

Liz laughed at O’Hara’s expression. “We’re also going to dinner afterward.”

Abandoning his argument, Spencer went to grab a box off of O’Hara’s desk. “And I have the perfect thing for dessert.” He brought it over and held it out to Lassiter.

Lassiter cautiously peered inside. “Spencer, what the hell are those?”

O’Hara sighed. “Shawn, what did I tell you about those cookies?”

“That I couldn’t give them out as holiday gifts or bring them to any parties,” Spencer replied promptly. “But the holidays are over and we’re at work. Therefore, cookies.” He held the box out to Lassiter again, shaking it.

Lassiter looked again at the oddly decorated gingerbread cookies. “Is that supposed to be what I think it is?”

Spencer grinned wickedly. “Yup. I was making gingerbread cookies with Gus one day and thought to myself, wow, these guys look kind of plain without any decorative frosting or gumdrop buttons. In fact, you can’t tell if they are guys or girls or aliens. Well, maybe those weird aliens in the old sci-fi movies that were conspicuously lacking in the crotch department.” He looked over at Guster, who nodded in agreement. “Anyway. . .” He took out a cookie and put it on Lassiter’s desk. “That gave me the idea for the gender specific gingerbread cookie.” He gazed at the sugary treat proudly. “I call this one Cindy.”

Lassiter eyed the cookie distastefully. “Get that _thing_ off my desk.”

Spencer covered the cookie’s ears and mock glared at him. “Lassie, be nice. You’re going to hurt her feelings.” He pulled another cookie out of the box and handed it to Liz. “You can have Ralph.”

Liz examined the cookie curiously. “This is very detailed.”

“Thank you.” Spencer nudged his shoulder. “See, your girlfriend likes them.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” Lassiter muttered. Liz slapped his arm. “What? It’s true.”

Liz shook her head. “You still don’t know how to talk to women.” She picked up Lassiter’s ‘girl’ cookie (there was no way he was thinking of it as Cindy). “There, happy?”

“Yes,” Lassiter said gratefully. “Thank you.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome. So, are you going to be ready to leave soon?”

Lassiter gestured at the pile of files on his desk. “I still have to get through these first.”

“I’ll do them,” O’Hara volunteered. “You can just pay me back next time I have a date.”

“He can?” Spencer asked excitedly.

“Yes,” O’Hara said. “And you can help me finish the paperwork.”

Spencer pouted. “But Jules. . .”

“You helped on these cases, you can help with the paperwork,” O’Hara said, giving him a look.

“Fine.” Spencer grabbed the files from Lassiter’s desk and sat down next to O’Hara with a huff.

“What about me?’ Guster asked.

“You can go,” O’Hara said.

“How come he gets to go?” Spencer protested. “He helped too.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” O’Hara said simply.

Guster grinned. “Later, Shawn.”

“This will be good for you, Spencer,” Lassiter said, standing up and grabbing his jacket. “Give you a taste of real police work.”

“Whatever,” Spencer muttered, grabbing the first file.

Lassiter wrapped his arm around his girlfriend. “Let’s get out of here.”

Liz leaned against him as they walked out to the car. “You weren’t very nice to Shawn.”

“He wasn’t very nice to me,” Lassiter countered.

“True. I just wish you guys got along better. Juliet and I want to try a double date.”

Lassiter grimaced. That sounded about the closest thing to hell on Earth. “I would rather have dental surgery by a blind man. _Without_ anesthesia.”

Liz sighed as she climbed into the car. “Just think about it, all right?”

Lassiter watched her wrap her cookie in a napkin and put it in the glove box. “You didn't have to take it. You could have just tossed it out.”

“But I want to eat it,” Liz said. “Juliet says Shawn makes great cookies, no matter how oddly decorated or shaped they are.”

Lassiter frowned. “Then why not just eat it now?”

Liz gave him an impish grin. “I thought it might be too distracting. Better to eat it somewhere private.”

Lassiter could feel himself starting to blush. “Right, private,” he said gruffly.

“Don't worry; I saved yours too.” She grinned. “I wouldn’t want to separate Cindy and Ralph.”

Lassiter groaned and dropped his head against the steering wheel. “Why do I put up with this?”

“Because you love me,” Liz said cheekily.

Lassiter raised his head and looked at her seriously. “Yes, I do,” he said softly.

Liz blinked in surprise. “Oh.” She ducked her head, blushing furiously. After a moment, she leaned over and kissed him lightly. “I love you too,” she whispered against his lips.

Lassiter pulled her into another kiss, this one deeper than the last. It was a little awkward twisting with the steering wheel in the way but then Liz scooted closer and he was able to pull her against him. He let a hand trail through her hair as he traced her bottom lip with his tongue. She moaned, bracing one hand on the seat as the other held onto his waist to keep them close. Her mouth opened and his tongue dipped inside to twine against hers.

His pants were starting to feel uncomfortably tight so he forced himself to pull back slightly. He didn’t want to take this any further considering they were still in the station parking lot. “We should go,” he said, ignoring how close Liz’s lips still were. “Spencer is probably watching us.”

Liz nodded and slide back into her seat. “He's probably taking pictures.”

Lassiter sighed, though he wasn't as upset as he normally would be at the thought of pictures of himself making out with his girlfriend floating around the station. Being in love will do that. He straightened his shirt and glanced over at Liz. “We'll continue this later.”

“Over dessert,” Liz said, nodding towards the glove box.

Lassiter rolled his eyes and Liz laughed. Shaking his head, he started the car and pulled out of the station, a smile fixed firmly on his face.

  
  


_And they lived happily ever after. . ._

_Well, as much as a gun-toting detective and a sword wielding medieval history teacher can. At least the coffee was always perfect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gingerbread cookie thing came about when my brother showed me a tumblr post for “androgynous gingerbread cookies.” I had one of those WWSD(What Would Shawn Do?) moments and thus was born the idea for gender specific gingerbread cookies.
> 
> Thank you for everyone who left a review. I'll answer them over the next week as I struggle to overcome my writer's block. Hopefully I'll have a new chapter of my werewolf fic soon.


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